


Heartsease

by GDITRISHA



Series: Scrolls of Esperia [1]
Category: AFK Arena (Video Game)
Genre: 3rd person pov, Additional Tags & Characters to be Added as the story progresses, Angst, Introspection, Other, Post Hypogean War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 03:45:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19265242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GDITRISHA/pseuds/GDITRISHA
Summary: Dura’s Dawn: A glorious battle that led all Hypogeans to their demise — a victory to be remembered for generations to come — but with Esperia and its people still dealing with the damage, seeking solace is an afterthought for the kingdom’s valiant, war heroes. Amidst the unrest, Estrilda searches for hers.





	Heartsease

Estrilda, a noble daughter from the House of Rayne, sat in her studio — a quaint room filled with all conceivable tools of the arts and fresh morning air flowing through the gigantic, glass window overlooking the estate's garden. The sky was bright, light blue in hue and the flowers she had tended in her spare time was now in bloom. It would have been a perfect subject to frame and, hopefully, hang on some wealthy curator's wall.

 

Auctioning the portrait for its worth in gold would not be enough though since her father's abode was to be reclaimed by the kingdom until the men of her once rowdy yet joyous house had returned or she, a frail woman, proved herself worthy of her clan's name, and the legacy attached to it. Eviction dawned and it was, in fact, soon.

 

"Milady, it is time."

 

_Perhaps too soon._

 

Belta, Estrilda's lady-in-waiting arrives with a set of clean undergarments, traveling tunic, and footwear. She sets a ceramic bowl and pitcher on the floor then, with a sigh, fills it with warm water.

 

"It's a shame. I won't get to see you nor your paintings anymore." She plucks the lavender from the stem with a swift pull, letting the buds wade in the water. She wrings the floral-infused washcloth until it was not as soaked. The dyes had stained Estrilda's lap, the brush's bristles now condensed and crusted with paint. A servant takes the once damp brush from her loose grasp while other abled assistants swiftly packed her dyes, easel, and her blank canvas. As soon as they finished packing, they gently closed the door behind them. Now bare and hair pinned up, Belta wipes her lady's body clean.

 

"My lady, your ride awaits." A male servant informs eyes averted, keeping the door ajar.

 

Both women make haste. Estrilda insists that she assisted in getting herself dressed much to Belta's dismay so she rushes to the other room. Estrilda quickly puts her undergarments and tighten her traveling tunic with a belt then buckles her footwear. Belta returns with a brush then gently yet thoroughly combs golden strands into sections for braiding. With fingers working like a loom weaving thread, Belta braids Estrilda's hair into plaits then tucks back any loose strands behind either ear.

 

"All done. Is there anything you need?"

 

"I would like to be left alone."

 

“Yes, milady.” Belta carries the discarded dirty clothing on one arm and the lavender-infused water in another, carefully treading a path that would not lead to spillage.

 

"Wait."

 

"Yes, milady?" She stopped in her tracks, a few droplets escaping.

 

"You have served my father's household well. Do take care."

 

With a tinge of sadness in her eyes, Belta musters a smile, bows her head and takes her leave. The way the sound leaves a room sets the young woman in melancholy.

 

Estrilda walks towards the balcony, disbelief dancing on her face as she watches the flowers being harvested and dropped into round, wicker baskets. It was to be carried away perhaps some would make it to the marketplace to be sold for a reasonable price while the defects would be thrown away. What use is there of flowers when there will be no one left to care for their growth? Estrilda was no different.

 

She takes a few steps back to stand dead center taking it all in one last time. Her beloved home was soon to be desolate and dust-ridden. The room and the remaining furniture had now been covered in musky coverings, the scent of lavender overpowered by something more... _ominous_.

 

"Smoke?"

 

The black fumes quickly slip underneath the door and into the room. Estrilda coughs while making her way back to the balcony only to see the garden in flames. She returns to the door only to find it locked. The metal knobs glowed as if it were being forged. Unbeknownst to the heat, she grabs hold of it only to bend from shock and pain.

 

“SOMEONE? ANYONE? HELP!" She screams and gathers strength to barge the door open with the full force of her body but to no avail. She lies down, coughing profusely, lungs brimming with anything but oxygen.

 

A distorted figure emerges from the smoke, looming from above and ensnaring her body in darkness.

 

 **"Good Night."** Its deep gurgled voice echoes as she struggles to stay conscious but she succumbs to suffocation.

 

Alas, a gasp escaped her lips.

 

Estrilda bolts up with an unsheathed dagger in hand. Eyes now opened and chest heaving for air, as if she had been submerged in an undertow. A familiar voice addresses her sudden wake.

 

"Must be quite a dream, I presume.”

 

Thane, an extensively skilled one-armed swordsman who had taken upon himself the task of training the Knight of Valor at the tender age of ten, and with little to no experience had raised Estrilda under his wing being her legal guardian as of late, was rekindling logs in the fireplace. The embers blanketed Estrilda's quarters in a warm glow as the evening sky brought a rather untimely thunderstorm.

 

Estrilda sheaths her weapon then rubs the thudding in her temples. The bandage wrapped around her head was damp, her sweat mixed with the scent of lavender.

 

"Thank goodness, you're awake!" Belta arrives with a wooden tray. Estrilda's mouth waters at the sight of cheese, sliced bread, and a bowl of piping-hot, hearty stew. She stands whisking it away from her then sets it on her lap. Manners out the way, she ate the meal with gusto.

 

"Seems I will have to fetch another batch for you, Sir Thane. Would you still like to have your meal in here?"

 

"The dining area will do."

Belta nods then steps out to prepare his meal with a slight skip in her step.

 

"Since when did you arrive?" She asks between bites, hastily dipping pieces of bread into the stew, staining her nightgown in the process.

 

“Three days ago. You've been out for five. Why aren't you in the infirmary?"

 

"You _know_ I can't stand that place." Her words hang in the air as she nibbles cheese.

 

"I am aware but I require you to visit the court physician first before the banquet." Thane sets the iron rod near the hearth then flicks rust from fingers before retrieving a scroll from his belt, a fancy invitation by the kingdom's beloved king to celebrate her eighteen years of age.

 

"It says the banquet is tomorrow. Why is it tomorrow?" Estrilda skims through text and dreads the thought of celebrating amidst reclamation. This didn’t sit well with her and neither with Thane who worried more for her injured state than some soirée, however, this wasn’t just an ordinary occasion they could shelve and retrieve some other time. With a sigh, Thane peers out the window then draw the curtains to a close.

 

"The court physician will be the one to decide if you're to make an appearance."

 

"Sir Thane, I've prepared your meal. It's set in the dining hall." Belta returns to take the tray and, much to Estrilda’s surprise, a ceramic bowl and pitcher filled with water. Estrilda gets the cloth and wipes the crumbs and excess tomato puree from her mouth. The whiff of lavender sets her agitation at ease.

 

“I shall take my leave. Do get some more rest.” Thane turns his heels and leaves Estrilda’s quarters, quick yet quiet footsteps make its way down the hallway then disappearing a flight of stairs. With her guardian out of site, she straightened her nightgown. Unrest settled in and she could not bring herself to lie back down. A little evening walk would have done her good but it would be too risky to evade Thane. With no other option in sight, she visits her studio. It'd been so long since she set foot there.

 

The marble floor was cold beneath her feet and the creaking noise caused by the doors made her wince. Standing dead center, a pang of sadness pools in her heart as she reminisces its prime. She knew where everything was despite the darkness and dust-ridden coverings. She relives her recent dream, piecing everything that had happened, and what it could have meant but the musky scent was too overpowering. With a little push, she opens the window to hear an oratorio of crickets and birds, the quiet drizzle of an ending evening storm, and the whirring of fresh air. The scent of petrichor signaling her to go back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I'd find a story I feel would be worth telling until this tiny idea sparked. I don't know how many chapters it will take to tell this story but I will see it through. Just a couple of notes:
> 
> 1\. My writing process is quite erratic. The goal is once I find my muse, I HAVE to jot everything down before I forget - dialogue, action, scents, feelings. This story comes to me in the form of a movie and I've got tons of scenes playing in my head like Dr. Strange searching out that 1 in 14M possibilities. So I appreciate your patience in advance.  
> 2\. [This chapter's muse 🎶](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YOVkmPd5eBY)  
> 3\. Thank you IROISH, my ever trust-worthy betareader!  
> 4\. I will add tags and characters as the story progresses so I don't end up spoiling anyone (or get ahead of myself). I will specify what tags were added HERE at the End Notes.
> 
> That's all for now. I hope you stay tuned and stick around!


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